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<title>Nessus, Our Darling by Teethspecialist (Creepingcreepily)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817501">Nessus, Our Darling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creepingcreepily/pseuds/Teethspecialist'>Teethspecialist (Creepingcreepily)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Dark And The Dangerous [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cannibalistic Thoughts, Existential Crisis, F/M, Mental Instability</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:29:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creepingcreepily/pseuds/Teethspecialist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The moral ramblings, and steadily deteriorating mental health of a human(?).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Dark And The Dangerous [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191860</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beast.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is just something a found going through some old account of mine.</p><p>Also Still Cannot Figure Out Formatting Here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Love, hate such a fine line between the two. Obsession is love, always love but, do they not know of hate? Vengeance. Betrayal. A hateful infatuation? Hate can be just as consuming as love, as everlasting. </p><p>Iron bars, hateful beast. Don’t you want to let him out? </p><p>“She’s yours, you know she is, don’t you want to make him pay for looking at her?” he whispers in the back of your mind. In that dark little corner, locked away.</p><p>    Turn a blind eye to him, to the dark cage and the ruthless beast within. Hate. Hate. Hate. ever consuming rage. Chains, upon chains, a blackened heart locked in a box. Possessiveness, and jealousy. Restriction. Control. Can’t dare to break the rules society has set in place.</p><p>“Why should it matter hmm? Why should the opinions of all these lower beings stop us, <em>stop me</em>?” he whispers seductively in your ear, cruelty thinly veiled. Bars shaking, chains straining. The screech of metal, near breakage. </p><p>Sweet smile, kind eyes. Lithe fingers intertwined with yours. “You’re so sweet.” she says with a soft smile, eyes full of love. </p><p>lips tilt up into a shadow of a smile, unknowing if that is good or bad, <em>if that is a truth</em>.</p><p>“Such a naive little girl, she’d run if she knew what we were really like.” he sneers. Body tensing, grip tightening upon her hand, looking down refusing to meet her searching gaze. Thoughts swirling, self hate rising.</p><p>“You’re so pathetic,” he laughs, “getting all torn up over this girl, this naive <em>child.”</em></p><p>Sun setting, alone again. Door closed, room dimly lit. white on white, hands straining against the porcelain rim of the old sink. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, eyes avoiding the mirror, afraid to see what could be there. </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>A monster.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>A beast.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>A wolf in sheep's clothing.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>"You're empty aren't you?" A voice speaks, this one different. Perhaps his own.</p><p>A whirling void, world masked in tones of grey. Does color truly exist? Did it ever? <em>Were you ever here?</em></p><p>You feel it in your bones, a tightness, an ache, a deep gnawing all consuming desire attempting to rip it's way through you. </p><p>
  <em>And with a</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Snap</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>It's gone. </p><p>Was it ever truly there? <em>Did you ever really feel a thing?</em></p><p>You try to grasp at it, try to <em>feel </em></p><p>But nothing comes, and once more you have been left to stew in your own personal prison. Alone with but you, your thoughts, and the darkness. </p><p>
  <em>Once more it is quiet.</em>
</p><p>A new day breaks, a new dawn. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. who are you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You remember her well, her face, her body. </p>
<p>A spark ignites, a gnawing in your bones. A deep seated desire to <em>consume. </em></p>
<p>Teeth aching, a need to rend flesh from bone, <em>to make every part of her yours. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>There's a reason it's called blood-lust, is there not? </em>
</p>
<p>Restrained. Restricted. </p>
<p>"Are you weak or are you strong?" </p>
<p>That was always the question. </p>
<p>
  <em>Was he weak to chain darkness or did it make him strong? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Was breaking himself apart, striping himself of his natural inclinations a show of strength or proof that even he was too weak to fight against society's expectations? </em>
</p>
<p>"They are lesser," He hisses "<em>what right do they have to dictate us?". </em>The screech of claws sinking through metal, a deep rumbling growl.</p>
<p>A monster playing human. Perhaps, <em>even praying to become human. </em> </p>
<p>What was he? </p>
<p>He thinks of her once more, the softness of her flesh. The way it makes his teeth ache and fingers flex into sharp talons. The deep, deep pull he feels when she is near. That encompassing desire to taste her sweet blood in his mouth, to feel the hot iron rich liquid dribble down his own skin, making him feel as though he may truly <em>live.  </em>The everlasting need to burrow himself inside her, rip her open and carve out her bones to replace with his own, til one cannot tell where he ends and she begins, <em>to claim every last bit of her, and carve himself into her very being for eternity</em></p>
  </div></div>
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